Candlewax

by C. Bailey Sims

  Warren watched as the stranger disappeared down a passage that led deep into the twisted bowels of the fortress and eventually into the Krenakan Woods themselves. That is how he had once been dismissed when Kallik had told him to keep an eye on Jessup. Now everyone in Tabrek was keeping an eye on someone else. The network of spies had become so large and so complex that when one sneezed, the entire fortress caught a cold. Only a handful of foolish Tabrekian princes still eluded Kallik’s authority and they were always on the run. Running from the Row of Bones, Warren laughed to himself.

  The road to Krenaka Fortress was lined with Tabrekian skeletons stuck up on pikes, the remnants of the corpses from the early days when Kallik first laid down his demands to the unwary tribes. Some of the skeletons were frightfully small; Kallik had eliminated whole families at a time. He found it an efficient way of guaranteeing submission from anyone left alive. Most of the bones had crumbled to the base of the pikes, but a few were still balanced precariously from their skulls. No one was allowed to touch them. Every now and then a new body appeared mysteriously overnight. The row just kept getting longer and longer. Warren swore he would not end up in the Row of Bones.

  He faced the old despot and wondered if he, too, would now be dismissed. He found Kallik scrutinizing him.

  “Warren, perhaps you would like to get even with that fairrier cat,” suggested Kallik.

  “Yes, my lord. Nothing would please me more.” Warren grinned at the thought.

  “Sit down.” Kallik gestured with one of his paw-like hands toward a nearby chair. “I will tell you what you must do. Spelopokos has been alive far too long. If all goes well, we will soon remedy that annoying problem.” Kallik’s smirk was grotesque. “I will even give you a small part of his skin.”

  So I’m a “duty.” An “obligation.” Catherine had never hated those words before, but then they had never stung like this. She looked ahead at Cyril as he followed Spelopokos up the trail, crossbow and a supply of bolts slung across his back. She touched the pendant he had returned to her, for the hundredth time savoring the look on his face when he had caught it through the Cinna Gate. And yet... maybe there is something more.

  Catherine could still feel the touch of his hand as it had brushed hers when he returned the talisman. She shook her head to clear it. What is this I’m feeling? He is arrogant and foolhardy. A handsome, arrogant, foolhardy king... who has nevertheless chosen to be with me now in Cinna.

  She had no fairrier cat fur in her socks, and yet her feet moved willingly and lightly up the trail. The heavy pack was a nuisance, but watching Cyril’s long strides and broad shoulders seemed to take her mind off of it. Catherine began to whistle “View from Mt. Krenaka.” Behind her she heard Bessie humming along.

  The trail widened slightly and Catherine waited until Bessie caught up with her so that they could walk together.

  “I was a dreadful dancer, wasn’t I?” said Bessie, out of the blue. “I have never felt so ignorant and foolish in all my life. To think that all of those people at the feast now believe that that is how you dance. I’m so sorry, Catherine.”

  A laugh spilled out of Catherine before she could stop it. “Bessie, you worry about the strangest things. Here you are, risking your life. Our fathers are going to be furious with us. And then there’s the fact that we still have to find a mate for Spelopokos and bring her back to Lackanay. And you’re worried about dancing!”

  “But I was awful, wasn’t I?” Bessie studied the trail intensely as they walked.

  “I promise I will teach you the court dances, Bessie. You just need some practice.”

  Bessie smiled. “Thank you, Catherine. But me doin’ court dances? Don’t know if I’ll ever have much need of them.”

  “You’ll need them. I’ll make sure of that! We’ll have a huge feast at Crystallia. You’ll meet my parents, Sir Gavin, and my dog, Wolfy. I’ll teach you how to ride and we’ll go down to Gant together to see Nepozadan’s statue.”

  “Nepozadan has a statue?”

  “Yes, he does.” Catherine spent the next half hour retelling the stories she’d learned of her grandmother, the ambush in Tannen Pass, the death of Edward, the treachery of Osrek and Kallik, and how Nepozadan saved the village of Gant. Menard, who had been walking back a few paces, sped up until he was just behind the girls. Catherine couldn’t be sure, but she imagined that Cyril was listening too.

  The sun was high in the sky before Pokos stopped. Catherine knew they were all trying not to show too much relief at the break. Menard looked haggard. Catherine’s heart went out to him.

  “Pokos?” she asked.

  “Yes, Catherine?” answered Pokos, his eyes the color of clover. He sniffed the pine-scented air with pleasure.

  “I think we would travel faster if we could have some of your fur.”

  Cyril and Menard looked at Pokos with open curiosity; Bessie grinned.

  “Please, Pokos! Menard and Cyril have never felt what it’s like to run like a fairrier cat!” Catherine added.

  Pokos stretched languidly and then padded around in a circle and lay down in the sun. He blinked sleepily. “You may gather some fur for yourselves, Menard first. Come, Menard.”

  Menard looked at the cat with sudden alarm. Catherine nodded at him and smiled encouragingly. Slowly the old counselor approached the huge fairrier cat.

  “Begging your pardon, Pokos, I mean Spelopokos, sir, but how do I do this?” Menard’s deep voice was filled with uncertainty.

  “Just run your fingers through my coat, and I will release what you need,” said Pokos, his eyes blinking drowsily.

  Menard’s strong, suntanned hand carefully stroked the cat, his fingers gathering an enormous wad of black and white fur. He stroked the cat again and came up with more. Menard murmured his thanks before walking over to Catherine and Bessie.

  “Am I supposed to eat it?” Menard asked the girls in a worried whisper. Bessie giggled. Catherine shook her head and pointed to his boots, smiling. Menard nodded and laughed.

  “O’ course. So that’s how you girls managed to outrun us! I always wondered about that. Never seen anyone escape a mounted Candlewax party at night, I can tell you that!” He sat down with his back to them, took off his boots and socks, and began to stuff the socks with the soft fur.

  Cyril, Bessie, and Catherine also gathered fur from Pokos, each thanking him in turn. The cat seemed to enjoy the stroking and was sending out vibrations that shook the leaves on a nearby bush. Before long they all had fairrier cat fur in their socks. The sun overhead was very warm. Spelopokos closed his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t mind a bit of a nap myself! We can save the running for later,” said Menard, stretching out on the sunny trail with his arm for a pillow.

  Catherine and Bessie both yawned at the same time and Cyril slung off his crossbow and stretched out in the middle of the trail. Catherine removed her pack and leaned up against it. She watched sleepily as Bessie slumped against Pokos. Then she, too, knew nothing at all as sleep overtook her.

  Catherine was the first to awaken. Pokos and Bessie were snoring. She tapped Pokos’s shoulder and watched him wriggle to his paws, shaking Bessie off as he rose.

  “Where am I?” Bessie asked, sounding confused.

  Pokos didn’t answer, but proceeded to push Cyril’s foot with his nose. He rolled over and continued to sleep. Pokos nudged him again. Cyril opened his eyes, stretched his arms, and sat up.

  “Menard! Wake up!” Cyril called to him as he jumped to his feet.

  He looked up at the sun to see how much time had passed.

  “About two hours,” said Pokos answering his unspoken question. “Longer than usual, but last night was a long night.”

  The five travelers prepared to get underway.

  Catherine started to reach for her pack when she realized something was wrong—she could no longer feel the amulet around her neck. Strange. I know I put it back on after Cyril crossed into Cinna. She patted her neck and shirt where the pendant should
have been, then searched the ground frantically, even though she somehow knew it was not there. The feeling of dread grew stronger.

  “Oh no! It can’t be!” Catherine let out a cry of despair. They all turned to look at her.

  “Pokos, the amulet! It’s gone!”

  “Stop! Don’t move! Let me smell you.” Pokos bounded to Catherine and sniffed at her and at the ground. Then he walked up the trail, nose to the rocky soil. The forest was quiet and the sun was still warm upon their shoulders.

  “Humans. Two. They went this way. Come.”

  Cyril cursed under his breath. Menard rested his palm on the pommel of his sword and frowned. Catherine looked down at her dagger. Gone! She felt a jab of anger and sadness. That dagger had come to mean a lot to her.

  “Pokos, they took my dagger too!”

  “I am sorry, Catherine. I should have stayed awake. Strange. It felt safe to me,” said the cat.

  “I should have stayed awake! I don’t know what happened; all of a sudden I had to sleep,” Cyril berated himself.

  “I should have warned you. Fairrier cat fur. If you are very tired it allows you to take short rests and be completely refreshed. If you are not accustomed to it, you have little control over the desire,” said Pokos.

  “So while we were cat napping somebody made off with the princess’s talisman and dagger,” Menard muttered, chagrined. “Who?”

  “Nothin’ else is missing. How did they know to take the talisman? Why did they take the dagger?” asked Bessie. “What are we goin’ to do?”

  Catherine put her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes. How will we ever get back through the Gate? She straightened her shoulders. “We’ll get it back, Bessie,” she said. Catherine put on her pack and fastened it. Her hands were shaking. The idea that someone had taken the talisman from off her neck while she was sleeping... How had they even known it was there?

  “Come,” urged Pokos, his tail twitching.

  Pokos began to run. Cyril and Menard gestured for Catherine and Bessie to follow, and they ran behind the girls. Menard leapt in great big, bounding strides. He passed Cyril with a wide grin on his face. Cyril quickly passed him again, pulling forward his crossbow. Menard took note, and without breaking stride, pulled his sword from the scabbard. As they ran, they looked up at the sides of the narrow trail and glanced behind, wary of an ambush.

  After running for some time, Pokos rounded a corner in the trail and suddenly stopped. Before him the path forked, and in the middle of the trail was the dagger. Someone had drawn a large circle around it. It pointed to the left.

  Pokos stopped outside the circle. He sniffed the wind and looked up at the craggy rocks that surrounded them. When Catherine made to reach for the dagger, he pushed her back with his shoulder.

  “Wait here. Be on guard. Stay away from the circle.” Pokos went around the dagger, well outside of any danger. He sniffed the ground and crouched low. Slowly he crept ahead on the path to the right. Cyril and Menard put their backs to the girls and watched for signs of movement. Menard shifted his grip on his sword and squinted into the distance.

  Catherine longed to grab her dagger, but she kept her distance from the circle. She and Bessie watched as the great cat began to shimmer and disappear. All was quiet.

  Time passed in agonizingly slow minutes. Catherine looked at the dagger. Her hand twitched. She edged closer to the circle. It would be so easy to snatch it out of the circle.

  “Don’t do it, Catherine,” said Cyril in a low, urgent voice. “It could be a trap.”

  “Maybe they just want us to go left instead of right. We don’t know for sure if they are enemies,” said Bessie.

  “Might be friendly, might not be, missy,” said Menard through his teeth, not taking his eyes off of the rocks and boulders around them.

  Catherine wished Pokos would return. She looked again at the dagger and wondered if the thieves had discovered its hollow handle. It seemed as she stared at it that everything inside the circle came into crisp focus, while everything else faded away in a fuzzy blur. She was so close! With one step she could touch it. She stretched out her hand. The dagger belonged to her. She wanted it back.

  Something slammed into her side. Catherine stumbled and fell backward, shocked. Everything looked clear again. Bessie stood above her, breathing hard; Cyril and Menard looked at the girls with their mouths agape.

  “I’m sorry, Catherine! You looked transfixed. I thought you were going to go into the circle!” Bessie’s hands were ice cold as she helped Catherine to her feet.

  Catherine brushed leaves from her hair, ashamed. “You’re right, Bessie. I won’t look at it again.” She forced her eyes away from the circle and dagger.

  “Saints preserve us! Look!” Menard was pointing at the dagger. Catherine couldn’t help it. She looked again. The dagger had risen from the ground and was hovering in midair. It began to turn, at first very slowly, and then faster and faster until it looked like a shimmering orb. It floated higher and higher until it was barely visible, then stopped spinning. It hung suspended over them and began to fall. Its blade struck the trail with such force that it was buried up to the hilt, right into the center of the circle.

  Bessie, Cyril, Menard, and Catherine stared at it, speechless. This was magic beyond anything they had ever seen in Lackanay.

  “You may take your dagger, Catherine.” Pokos had crept up behind them, making Menard jump. He looked at the cat with widened eyes and a slight, open-mouthed smile. Catherine sighed in relief, then hesitated.

  With an encouraging nod from Pokos, she stepped into the circle. Wiping her damp palms on her skirt, she bent down to grasp the handle of her dagger. It slid easily from the ground, the blade unblemished. She pressed on the thistle bolster until it popped off, and checked the contents. Everything was there.

  “Choose our path, Catherine,” Pokos ordered.

  Catherine looked at each trail in turn. They looked about the same. The blade had pointed to the left fork. Did these people of Cinna want her to go that way? Pokos had investigated the trail on the right, and yet he said nothing about what he had found. She took a deep breath and tried to sense which path to choose. She held the dagger out in front of her, between the two trails. If only I had the talisman!

  Catherine closed her eyes and visualized the trail on the left and the one on the right. The one on the right began to grow brighter, while the other darkened and faded. Is this another spell? Should I trust it? The dagger swung to the right. She opened her eyes.

  The trail to the left was gone. In its place was a great precipice, which elicited a gasp from Bessie and a low whistle from Cyril.

  Menard leaned over and looked down. “Well, that was a close one!” He began to laugh. One by one the others joined in, their hilarity rising until Catherine, holding her stomach, sat down and begged them to stop.

  “Did you know, Pokos?” She wiped her eyes, desperately trying to catch her breath. “You wouldn’t have let us step off of a cliff, would you?”

  “I would have been the first to die,” he replied, a strange tone in his voice. Silence fell among the group. “It appears that my life is valued no more here than in Lackanay.”

  “What did you find on the trail ahead?” asked Cyril.

  “The scent of two people and... ”

  Cyril stepped closer to Pokos. “And what?” he pressed.

  “They spoke to me. In my head. They know who I am. Who Catherine is. They are from the same civilization as the ancients who created the amulet. But they are Cinnans, not Tabrekians.”

  “Did you see them?” asked Cyril.

  “No.”

  “Why did they try to kill us?” demanded Bessie. “First they steal the pendant, so you can’t tell if Catherine is in danger, then they point us in the wrong direction with the dagger and try to get us to walk over a cliff!”

  “It was a test,” muttered Catherine. “A test to see if we are worthy. If I am worthy. To fulfill the prophecy.” She looked at
Pokos. He walked to her and bowed his head, inches from her face. She reached up and scratched the spot behind his ear.

  “I should take you all back through the Gate. I would if I still had the talisman. This is too dangerous,” said Catherine.

  Cyril faced her. “You passed the test. Do not think about what might have happened. You chose the right path. You are worthy.” She looked into his eyes and saw confidence and trust. The lump of guilt in her stomach melted away. No one had been hurt, after all.

  “He’s right, Catherine! I wouldn’t go back anyway,” said Bessie.

  “Nor I,” said Menard.

  “Then let’s get the amulet back, find our fairrier cat, and leave,” said Cyril.

  “Can’t say I like the idea of Cyril being away from Candlewax for very long. No telling what Kallik might try if he found out,” added Menard. “I say we track ‘em down.”

  “Wise words, Menard,” reflected Pokos. “The way they spoke to me... it is also the way the ancient people of Tabrek used to speak to fairrier cats long before I was born. They told me that our path must be chosen by Catherine.”

  All eyes turned to Catherine. She tucked her short, oiled hair behind her ear and looked up the trail—the only trail. With a wry smile she pointed with the dagger and proclaimed, “That way!”

  The Cinna trail, which had been unmercifully steep, suddenly crested and started to take the five travelers downhill. A bitter wind rushed up the mountain from the other side, catching them off guard. The sun had already passed behind the tall mountains to the west and they now walked on in shadow. Only the tops of the peaks caught the last rays of the setting sun, glowing a rosy pink that looked deceptively warm in the frosty air. Catherine stopped for a moment to admire the vast expanse of rugged terrain.

  We have to find a more sheltered spot before nightfall. Perhaps Menard has experience in finding campsites. She bounded down to Spelopokos and asked him to wait for the others. Bessie soon caught up, followed by Cyril and Menard.